


Klaasvakie

by greyhound (Blistering_Typhoons)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Afrikaans, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Foreign Language, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Sleep, South Africa, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 21:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20160646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blistering_Typhoons/pseuds/greyhound
Summary: Our narrator muses on a childhood myth Klaasvakie, or better known as The Sandman.





	Klaasvakie

**Author's Note:**

> This story is primarily in English, with some dialogue in Afrikaans. Translations will be provided :)

There was once a story my mother told me, every night before I went to bed. I cannot specifically remember the words, but her voice is always clear with one word.

_Klaasvakie._

The Sandman.

Every time a relative tried to get me to sleep, as I struggled badly in my childhood, there was always a variation on the myth.

My uncle Jacobus’ version was the one that scared me the most, which now makes sense in the context of his life.

_‘’Groot. Baaie fockin’ groot, met tande wat op die vloer val if you look at him. He’s got wings too, they’ll suffocate you as jy nie sal slaap nie.’’_

His voice was always gruff, impatient as I cowered away from whatever monster my brain had conjured up that evening. His descriptions were short, but effective.

My grandmother’s version was more biblical. She didn’t even call him Klaasvakie.

_‘’My kind, moenie bang wees nie. Die Jirre kyk na jou elke aand en elke dag. Wil jy nie nou slaap nie? Jou arme ouers, hulle is so moeg.’’_

Her voice had been sweet, airy and always hiding away her impatience that sounds so clear now when I visit her. I had slept at least, until I was woken up by the sounds of late night television and adult laughter.

My cousins never told me stories, all of them being young males and not seeing the point in caring for their younger relative. 

Instead they read from non-fiction books, usually ones that were designed to disturb the reader with horrifying facts of nature and science. Their juvenile laughter is what soothed me and the rare time they visited, were the rare times I slept with a half grin on my face.

My mother. She read to me fewer than my cousins.

When she did, her hair was tangled, her eyes held bags and her clothing nearly strangled her as she hadn’t had the time to straighten it out.

She read with a calm, sterile voice. Her tone both loving and distant, rather how artificial intelligence is designed to make you feel at ease.

She always spoke English. We lived in America, after all, no need for her native tongue.

She still said his name though.

_‘’Klaasvakie will only visit children that cannot sleep and sprinkle his special dust into their eyes. That’s why you wipe your eyes in the morning, to clear away sleep.’’_

My eyelids always grew heavy at that part, which she would take the opportunity to mime throwing dust into my eyes, making me giggle sleepily.

I don’t have anybody to tell me the story now. Which doesn’t really matter.

He’s always here.

He looks nothing like what I’d imagined, but I find I don’t mind.

He’s always perched on my wardrobe, the glow of his eyes the only visible part of him. He moves slowly, gracefully and his voice is a series of low hums and occasional clicks.

I’ve never heard him speak.

He presses his hand onto my chest to keep me in place, before leaning down and blowing cool air onto my face. His long, slender fingers rub together and black dust does indeed fall into my eyes. 

Right before I fall into oblivion once more, his shape falls away, replaced by a shining golden light.

‘’Slaap nou.’’

**Author's Note:**

> '’Groot. Baaie fockin’ groot, met tande wat op die vloer val if you look at him. He’s got wings too, they’ll suffocate you as jy nie sal slaap nie.’’
> 
> _''Big. Really fuckin' big, with teeth that fall on the floor if you look a him. He's got wings too, they'll suffocate you if you don't sleep.''_
> 
> ‘’My kind, moenie bang wees nie. Die Jirre kyk na jou elke aand en elke dag. Wil jy nie nou slaap nie? Jou arme ouiers, hulle is so moeg.’’
> 
> _''My child, don't be scared. The Lord looks after you every night and every day. Don't you want to sleep now? Your poor parents, they're so tired.''_
> 
> ''Slaap nou.''
> 
> _''Sleep now.''_


End file.
